I love you

I’m an Unitarian Universalist . My decision to fully support the values and vision of the faith have allowed me to explore wisdom from multiple perspectives, sources, beliefs, and experiences that I wouldn’t otherwise have come to comprehend, much less understand.

I found it necessary before I even knew about UU, to excavate my spirit from decades of teachings that told me I was not worthy of love, much less the love of God or a man, or another human for that matter.

Everything I relished or enjoyed was a punch-mark on my ticket to hell. I was convinced because I read a book about the rapture when I was in my early teens that told me exactly where I was headed.

I believed that for every sin I committed (or the heft of the sins committed against me) that I needed to make amends by attending the most churchy church I could find.

I threw myself into the world of a bake sale/ choir singing/ hands raised/ head bowed/ lunch with the pastor and his wife kind of church life.

My hands were busy, but my spirit was abandoned under the stairs. I sang loudest (not well either) but didn’t feel safe asking questions because that meant I doubted my faith, right?

Disillusioned by the God that never answered my prayers. The God who judged me for my father’s sins that never quite washed away during baptism. But instead replaced the S.A. at the hands of my father with the understanding that it was God’s will or that I was somehow was so irresistible that my purpose was solely to please others.

My voice got louder but I remained silent because it was MY job to protect others at all costs, even to my detriment. It was MY job to make daddy feel better after he fought with my mother. It was MY job to protect everyone but myself. I was well groomed and damned by default.

I concluded that there wasn’t a God at all. How could there be? And if there was, why would the horrors I witnessed even exist? Why did I exist? What purpose could that possibly serve?

Finding Unitarian Universalism quietly granted permission to ask big questions. It allowed me to have an eclectic understanding of love in every form throughout the rich history of my faith.

The main draw for me has been Love at the center. I learned to love myself because others showed me how. I learned to be vulnerable, ridiculous, compassionate, generous with time, and kind without ridicule or judgement from others.

My heart felt bursting with joy, love, and a peace that had been fleeting before. I brought my enthusiasm, my passions, my courage, and laughter. I brought welcomed willing hands. I found my people; I’d finally found my soul home.

I felt safe, comfortable, and finally living not just surviving. Sometimes I’d let myself into the sanctuary (perks of leadership in the church) and just sit in the quiet where my soul received comfort. I could feel what I felt but without shame. I felt love/d.

A catastrophic failure of healthy communication skills led to my removal from all positions of leadership which in turn caused my secession from my family and community.

Because of that, the trajectory that I’d been planning for, working towards, sacrificing things I loved for , went POOF! 💨

I am allowing myself space. I granted myself permission to exhibit my emotions when I feel them, not only in private. I’m allowing myself to be compassionate with myself, fiercely loyal to my peace, and to revel in the joy of not knowing everything.

Most importantly, I’m holding my people in my heart because my covenant remains steadfast to the UU values based on the Law of Love. My loyalty is given freely to those I’ve comforted, uplifted, broke bread with, cried with, created with, laughed with, celebrated, connected with and mourned beside. Love is always the answer. Love is always the right choice.

Being a Unitarian Universalist is the heart of my love. It is sacred and unwavering. Nobody has the power to erase me again for I am beloved.

Bob’s backyard

Just after shooting this video, a goldfinch joined the party. A red-bellied woodpecker also came to enjoy the offering of black oil seed.

Bob returned home after 6 months of being gone. He’s in such a good mood I had to scrape him off the ceiling with a spatula. My Beastie and I moved everything out of his apartment and back to his house.

Mocha enjoyed a pup cup today with deep passion.

It was all over her face.

In other news, last year I asked to do an art installation in the local park frequented by people who walk, run, stroll, etc. on the paths. The city said no, they don’t allow any kind of signs along that pathway in the park.

I sent them samples of the signs I wanted to place. Like “If you’re here, you’re awesome!” “You’re amazing!” “Keep going, you’ve got this!” “You are loved.” But they still said no. That irritated me enough that I made and gave out over 300 1” buttons that said, “Be L❤️ve”.

Although that sated my thirst for a bit, I wondered if I was thinking too small. Turns out, I was!

As part of the Stewardship drive at my church, anyone who pledged for the year got:

I didn’t have permission to post this person’s picture so I disguised 🥸 them. But the SIGNS!

I designed them with a bit of editing and encouragement from my Bestie (Jen Stark suggested Live Joy) and input from Lóre Stevens (Create). Now, those signs will be all over my city all because I was told No. HA! Each one a stake of rebellion and I’m bursting with joy!

You can order here

The Witnesses (updated)

To honor Good Friday, (2015) I was asked to write a poem. I do not proclaim a faith, just a belief in love and the goodness of the human beings that walk this plane. The three part poem below is written from three perspectives witnessing the crucifixion. When it is read, it is from three different voices they come. I hope it speaks to your spirit if you’re so inclined.

Verse One: The Observer

I’m not a Christian, but Lord, if I was,

I’d not stand by and watch them offer up applause

For that man they called a criminal for preaching about love

For the one some call Messiah, while others cry Peaceful dove.

I stand here in the crowd as they cheer this brother’s pain

My heart is filled with sorrow, as his beaten body strains

The laughter that I hear from the festive vicious hearts

Breaks something inside of me, tears my faith apart

I want to scream above the crowd, “HEAR!”

In a voice shrill and loud, “ME!”

With my head no longer bowed, “LORD!”

Releasing my own funeral shroud, “I AM NEAR!”

But I am weak, just human. I am nothing compared to them.

But maybe, my kindred spirits, that’s what moves me to condemn

For I love my God with all my heart, and in God’s house I walk

I serve in supplication, I don’t just talk the talk.

I am not a Christian, but Lord, if I ever loved,

I’d heed the wisdom of the dying man, and thank my God above.

Verse Two: The Participant

How dare that man pass his judgement down on me!

Who does he think he is, telling ME how to believe?!

I’ve learned and taught the toe-RAH

I’ve worshipped at the sacred altar

I’ve cantered every prayer

I can recite them without flaw or falter.

Then this mortal man comes along and claims to be

Far more holy than even me?

The Son of God? Oh, reeeeaaaaaaallly!?

I’ve fixed that preachy “Love Thy Neighbor” fellow

I paid my thirty silver to hear him scream in falsetto.

Sometimes the laws I enforce prevent me from doing what’s right

I pass the coins to Roman hands, let them bloody their own hands tonight

This should make my people think twice before leaving our faith

To follow a crazy instigator, that rejects my loving God’s face.

Verse Three: The Intimate

I am hidden in the darkness, afraid to show my face

“Oh Lord, why’d they tell us that Yeshua fell from grace?

You showed me my friend Judas with thirty silver in his fist

Forsake my dear beloved with cold betrayal’s kiss

You let my holy brother be taken

from the garden where we prayed.

You allowed him to be arrested

when you could have let him stay.”

I am hidden in the darkness, afraid they’ll point at me and say

That I was clearly one of his. That they’ll kill me the same way.

“Oh Lord, why have they called for my redeemer to be killed?

When ne’er a drop of anguish from his gentle lips have spilled?

I do not feel you near, Oh God, I’ve lost your loving light

When they took my sweet friend, Yeshua, away in darkest night.

If I weren’t hidden in the darkness, barely safe from Roman harm

I’d scream out my torment, beating my chest to sound alarm.

“Hosanna! Hosanna! I sing to your precious name

Hosanna! Hosanna! My finger points my brother’s shame.

My faith is ever yours, even when I don’t understand.

I mean, you took us through the desert, 40 years we wandered sand

And yet, my Father, I hide here, within this darkened room

I wonder, holy patriarch if his death will also be my doom.”

I am hidden in the darkness, despair my wretched dominion

Oh God! My Loving God! Remove my deserter’s vision.”

Hats of many colors

I wear a lot of hats in my work life. Three of them are braided together for maximum service. I am a non-medical caregiver/companion. I am a commissioned lay chaplain. I am a Death Doula.

During the course of my relationship with my clients, I learn their quirks, their wants, needs, and their humor. I get to witness their family dynamics working and sometimes dysfunctional. I see them at their most vulnerable. I bathe them, change soiled clothing, help them maintain mobility, and because of and despite the messiness of aging, I fall in love with them and their lives.

As a lay chaplain, I feel comfortable and confident speaking to them about difficult topics such as death, dying, and how they want/need things to go as the reason for hiring me becomes more intrusive on their physical and therefore spiritual journey. I help them articulate what’s most important to and in their lives. To me, it feels holy.

As a Death Doula, I work in tandem with hospice. I help the families and my clients to understand what is happening, what is likely to happen, and insure the end of life is as smooth and comfortable as possible. I sing to my people. I read to my people. I hold vigil and space in silence. This feels sacred to me.

When my person dies, my love does not. Although I make myself available, families often go the way of the winds after my purpose with their loved ones has been fulfilled. The anchor has been lost and they drift away into their new normal. It’s not my favorite part of what I do, but I understand that vulnerability is not comfortable and I’ve witnessed them being so.

This past week I’ve lost two people I loved, cherished, and cared for. I’m currently serving a third. It’s hard. It hurts. It’s living and loving grief in a complex respect and surrender. I don’t have all the answers but I’m good at what I do.

As an accused angel in a meat suit, I will continue to serve, adapt, grow, learn, and embrace my own inevitable death because that breathes life into my soul. This is my happiness and my calling. It is my honor to walk my people home.

Hurricane Gale

I honestly feel like I am the eye of the hurricane 🌀.

No matter what happens around me, it’s going to be how it is.

I have control, such as it is, over my reactions even with big emotions.

I feel centered and balanced.

I’m shifting with the currents, adjusting my sails, allowing the journey to reveal itself as it comes.

I am calm.

This is my peace.

Healing Hugs

I hugged shame

I loved disgrace

I encouraged peace

To the weeping face

I heard confession

I felt mercy

I held his hand

Told him he’s worthy

Removed the prison

Of spoken word

Showed him value

By actions served

He sobbed for relief

From a god he doubted

Regret his badge

His sight; sin clouded

Visible pain

ached his soul

But his words dictated

Desperate control

Will he surrender?

Forgive his heart?

Remember his humanity,

That is tearing him apart?

I can’t fix him

Or make things better,

Just let him feel loved

Releasing the debtor

Who knew?

I have a client whom I’ve been with for over 8 months. I companion care he and his wife three times a week. He is extroverted, claims he hates people while socializing, laughs with his entire body, and is charmingly impish. She is quiet, speaks when spoken to, defers to her husband, but is sweet and expressive when she feels it.

I was doing a normal Thursday visit. He was in rare form. He declared himself indomitable then laughed when myself and his other visitor cheered his word choice. It was a grand celebration of friendship and excellent conversation.

The following morning I received a text that said things had taken a turn for the worse and he was in dire straits. Could I go visit? Absolutely.

Dire straits is an understatement. Although no fever, he was having a health crisis not experienced before. The secondary visitor of Thursday was informed of the situation and they also arrived. It was crushing to know that what we experienced the day before had done a 180. His stats were critically low, but being on hospice, comfort was key.

We prayed.

Okay, I confess, I thought prayer, like funerals, were for the comfort of the person attending to their love. Positive vibes and all that. I prayed to the Universe that peace would prevail, that the highest good would be met, and that his children would arrive in time to attend the final hours. He was put on several prayer chains, of which, I’ve also been skeptical.

For four days he knocked on death’s door. He wasn’t eating or drinking. He couldn’t swallow. He was doing a version of Cheyne-Stokes breathing (It’s kind of like a fish out of water. Because they can’t swallow, the mucus that normally goes down remains in the throat causing a “rattling” sound) He knocked hard, but…nobody was home?

Tuesday he was awake and aware of visitors; even speaking.

By Thursday he was sitting up in his chair, conversing, demanding, agitated that he couldn’t exercise “to stay fit.” He ate more than he had all week. He drank hot tea. He was cranky, but alert and responding to input.

Okay, so let me explain why this struck me as unusual. I honestly believed, as did the nursing staff, that he was going to die. His body showed all the signs of that coming up quickly. The children (my age and better), were told to prepare. But, what changed?

I’m sure there is a scientific reason for his sudden turn-around. I’ve seen and experienced people doing a “rally” (That’s when the dying person suddenly has a burst of energy that can make them seem competely “normal” again. They may want to eat their favorite foods, or drink, or talk with their loved ones. It happens surprisingly often.) Four days of awareness is unusual.

This particular set of events has really forced me to confront my views on prayer, on my own experience, and honestly, I feel like a bit of imposter. However, I’ll take the guidance of my fellow guest and roll with the grace that has been granted with this incredible occurance. I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to be wrong, yet I want so badly to understand.

The next few days, other family members will be attending to him in conjunction with his children.

I will continue to pray. I am baffled, feel awkward in my Unitarian Universalist faith, curious as all get out, and willing to laugh at myself for thinking I knew enough. Do we ever?

Whatever The Face (VIDEO)

The poem I wrote after speaking with a woman who was dealing with profound grief amidst the loss of many kinfolk, including her son.

Whatever the Face

You don’t need permission to be angry with God
You’re not less of a human or any more flawed
It’s okay to yell, to scream, and to shake
To groan under your burden while your heart aches
To feel like you’re in it, totally alone
The weariness digging down deep in your bones
You don’t need permission to question your faith
To want something different than the cards that have played
You’re perfectly normal to deny what is true
The mistakes that were made that you can’t undo
Rejecting condolences because then “IT” is real
Bargaining, begging, willing to make deals
Wherever your God is, whatever the face
Know that you’re held in comfort and grace
The shoulders you cry on, the prayers that are offered
Are all given up to the ultimate Author

Altar Building

Holy light ripples from one prayer to the next

Candle to candle

Continuous Hope lit liberally

From one heart to another

A sustainable support

To ease burdens

To celebrate joys

To guide one another

With wisdom and reverence

A catalyst towards Universal Love

Progress towards Justice

A beacon towards personal truth

A stable trust in sacred communion

Of torchbearing faith outwardly

Reflection of our own hearts

Rising like the morning mist in a meadow